


Jim Loses his Pants

by josiechambers3



Series: Spork One-Shot Collection [5]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: (everything happens on shore leave), Aliens, Comedy, Desert Island, Eventual Romance, Frisky Mermaids, It Happened on Shore Leave, Jim literally loses his pants, M/M, Mermaids, Romantic Comedy, Shore Leave, Spork, and Spock in his boxers bc why not, romance happens i promise but it comes later, spirk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 08:03:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14232888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/josiechambers3/pseuds/josiechambers3
Summary: “Spock, kiss me.”“Pardon?”“You heard me.”*Jim and Spock somehow end up stuck on a deserted island together. Without pants. Surrounded by alien mermaids hungry for one James Tiberius Kirk.*I DO NOT OWN STAR TREK. I JUST WROTE THE STORY.





	Jim Loses his Pants

**Author's Note:**

> 8,500 words of nothing but Jim and Spock. On shore leave on a supposedly-uninhabited class M planet. Stuck alone together on a deserted island. Stalked by angry mermaids. Because that makes sense.
> 
> (this ended up being twenty-three pages long on Microsoft Word with my formatting and how long this one-shot is how do I stop doing things like this help)
> 
> Enjoy! :3

            Everyone was wearing their bathing suits.

 

            They were decked out with overly large sun-hats and sunglasses, their faces dabbed over with white blobs of sunscreen. Some already were in their inner tubes and floaties and the like. All had towels in one hand and beach umbrellas and chairs in the other.

 

            The scouts had finally come in with their notes on the planet—a breathable atmosphere, mild climate, temperatures pleasantly warm (especially after that three-week-long diplomatic mission on that planet that was basically all ice). The planet was ninety-eight percent water of a similar saline solution to the oceans on Earth. No dangerous large life detected, not even in the waters. A class M planet, and a beautiful one, at that.

 

            In short, it would be a perfect place to have shore leave.

 

            But it wouldn't have mattered what the scouts said. When the scouts returned to the _Enterprise_ , they discovered lines of people waiting to beam down to the planet's surface. It wouldn't have mattered if they said the atmo was poisonous; the captain had already deemed that it was shore leave time and begun organizing shifts people would go.

 

            Spock was not happy with it.

 

            Granted, happy was an emotion, which he of course didn't feel, so it would make sense that he wasn't happy. But then, by that logic he would also not be unhappy about it. And yet...well, he supposed he was not really that, either.

 

            The best word for what he felt, Spock supposed, would be irritation.

 

            Because Captain Kirk had stubbornly insisted on Spock joining him for shore leave, just as he always did, despite the Vulcan's firm insistence that he did not require, and likely would never require, shore leave.

 

            And Spock, not being one who could resist his captain's insistences (no matter how illogical), found himself unable to say no. Especially since Jim had smirked at him and leaned in all too close, breathing into his ear, “Don't say no. It would be il-lo-gi-cal to cause unnecessary tension between a captain and his first officer, yeah? It would keep us from performing at maximum efficiency as a command team or whatever.”

 

            Spock knew how to get to Jim. Now he was forced to admit to himself that it was highly likely that Jim knew how to get to Spock, too.

 

            And so, Spock found himself standing stiffly on the transporter pad next to his captain, who was wearing nothing but a pair of swimming trunks that really didn't leave much to the imagination.

 

            Kirk took one look at his second-in-command and frowned. “You're wearing your uniform to this thing?” he huffed, pouting. “You're going to die of heat down there.”

 

            Spock raised an eyebrow. “Captain, if I must remind you that I am Vulcan. High temperatures are welcomed.”

 

            Jim shrugged. “True.” He paused. “You could've at least worn something that isn't your boring, everyday uniform, though.” He paused, then grinned and leaned in close, whispering words no one else in the transport room could hear. “But you look hot in it, so I can't really complain.”

 

            Of course Spock would look hot in his uniform. Had the captain not already ascertained that he would be hot in his uniform? That was what the previous exchange had been about, had it not?

 

            Spock opened his mouth. But before he could question Kirk's choice of words or begin to break down what he had just said and why the blond might have just said that, Spock was being beamed down to the planet alongside Jim, McCoy, Nyota, Sulu, and Chekov.

 

\---

 

            After blinking slightly to manage the disorientation the transporter always gave people, the first thing Spock's senses took in was a shouted, “Woo-hoo!”

 

            Spock turned and was not surprised to see his captain running straight for the gleaming blue water in front of them, whooping all the way. He leaped in.

 

            The second Jim touched the water, he was leaping away from the water, right back to where he came from. “Cold!” he yelped. “Cold, cold, cold!”

 

            If Spock were human, he might have laughed alongside everyone else at that. As it was, despite him being Vulcan, he still had to suppress an amused twitch of the lips.

 

            Everyone else wisely didn't follow Kirk's example and set up their towels, umbrellas, and the like before slowly easing themselves into the water, allowing themselves time to get used to it before immersing themselves even more.

 

            Spock decided to refrain from entering the water (in addition to his not having the proper clothing necessary, if it was cold it would not be a good idea for one of such a necessitated high body temperature as him to go in), and instead chose to sit rather stiffly on the beach chair he had procured and brought down with him.

 

            Then Spock simply watched the others.

 

            He watched McCoy cursing the cold water and muttering about hypothermia, he watched Sulu trying to teach Chekov how to float on his back, he watched Jim sneaking up on Nyota and splashing her in the face, he watched Nyota shove a protesting Jim underwater for thirty-seven point two seconds in revenge (he eventually had to force her to let Jim back up, as having a dead or unconscious captain would not be optimal and would be hard to explain in a report back to Starfleet Command).

 

            He watched as Chekov, finally getting the hang of floating on his back, floated into an area of water a bit farther and to the right of everyone else in the water.

 

            He watched as Chekov began to get pulled away from the others by a riptide.

 

            Sulu, McCoy, Nyota, and Jim immediately managed to pull the young Russian back, but the damage was done. A now-traumatized Chekov announced that he was going to get out and explore the land, and Sulu readily agreed to go with (although perhaps with other intentions than exploring. correction—he was likely interested in exploring as well, but he was probably more interested in exploring Chekov than exploring the land they were on).

 

            Not long after that, Nyota decided to get out, suntan, and read a new novel on her PADD. And Bones got out, sipped some oddly-smelling liquid in a small flask, lounged around, and eventually fell asleep not long after.

 

            So it was just Kirk in the water.

 

            Spock called out to Jim from where he was. “Captain, it is not advisable to swim alone.”

 

            “I'll be fine, Spock!” was the response. “You guys can see me, and I'm a big boy!” he called a bit mockingly. “And don't call me Captain. We're on shore leave!”

 

            Spock sighed. “Very well...Jim.”

 

            They were all silent for a moment before Jim broke it again. “Ya know, if you're not gonna swim, you could at least take off your shoes, feel the sand beneath your toes. Relax!”

 

            Spock raised an eyebrow, but he complied, obediently peeling off his shoes and socks and placing his feet down gingerly on the sand below. He took a moment to take in the feel of the sand beneath his feel and marvel in its warmth and texture.

 

            Jim grinned at him from atop his inflatable inner tube in the water. Something seemed remarkably devious in that look...but there was nothing Jim could possibly do here, so Spock dismissed it. He hopped down and made as if to return to land, then paused, looking down. “Whoa! Spock! C'mere! You hafta see this!” he crowed.

 

            Spock sighed minutely before standing and walking gingerly over to see what his captain was talking about.

 

            Upon reaching the sand just before the ocean, Spock looked down at the water near Kirk. “I do not see anything, Jim.”

 

            Kirk smirked mischievously and responded by pulling Spock into the water.

 

            Spock went under and immediately was freezing. He resurfaced as quickly as he could, trying to remain as dignified as possible while being waterlogged and getting a nose- and mouthful of saltwater. Jim laughed alongside McCoy at Spock, and Nyota sent him an apologetic yet amused look.

 

            “This is not appreciated, Captain,” Spock said sharply. He stiffened in the freezing cold of the water and began to get out as hastily as possible while retaining dignity and not looking like he was running for the hills.

 

            Perhaps his haste was what made him overlook where he was going.

 

            Spock found himself being pulled under and dragged away by a surprisingly strong rip-current, the same one Chekov had been pulled into, and with a small spike of alarm, Spock found himself tumbling head over heels underwater, barely able to hear the cries of alarm of his companions and completely unable to even see them anymore.

 

            Spock tumbled around, unable to stop. He found himself wishing that he had taken the time to learn to swim (the _Enterprise_ had a pool onboard, a heated one, so what had been his excuse, anyway? that had been highly illogical and unintelligent of him.) He couldn't tell what was up and what was down. Even with his immense strength, he couldn't get free. He couldn't tell how long he had been in there, how much longer he could stand to be underwater before he blacked out from lack of oxygen.

 

            Then, suddenly, hands were there, grabbing him, forcing him in a direction.

 

            Spock's head broke the surface, and he gasped in, breathing in the welcome air. He found himself coughing up large mouthfuls of water before he could regain control of himself and his body once again.

 

            Spock felt himself being pulled to a floating buoy of some sort, which he quickly grabbed onto.

 

            One of those hands brushed his hair out of his eyes and helped him wipe at his salt-logged eyes. Spock couldn't tell who exactly it was through his touch telepathy (his head and senses seemed too cold and waterlogged to do so), but he could sense their concern and that they meant no harm, so he allowed it.

 

            Once Spock managed to be able to see again, eyes still stinging, he saw a worried Jim staring at him.

 

            “I'm sorry,” Jim apologized. “I didn't think....” He trailed off.

 

            “No, you did not think,” Spock responded, making Jim wince slightly. But it wasn't an angry response. It wasn't accusing. It was just...said. Stated. A simple fact.

 

            Spock looked around to see where they were, seeing nothing but blue ocean around him and perhaps a thin strip of land off in the distance. They appeared to both be floating in the water, with nothing but themselves and the inner tube they were both holding tightly to. “Where are we? What has occurred?”

 

            “Okay, first of all, I have no idea where we are.” Jim looked around them. “And I'm not completely sure what happened, either. It all happened pretty fast. You got caught in the riptide, and you went down. I may or may not have followed you, which was probably kinda stupid, but as we both have yet to die, I think we'll be good.”

 

            Spock carefully examined his captain first, then himself. Indeed, it appeared that neither of them was in any immediate danger. “Indeed, that was an illogical response, Captain, but as no lasting damage has occurred, it does not appear to matter at the moment.” He paused. “In addition, it will be easier for the _Enterprise_ scanners to pick up the two of us versus just one, so we may be found sooner.”

 

            Jim grinned. “See? It may not have been for a logical reason, but it's a logical enough reaction!”

 

            Spock looked curiously at Jim. “If I may inquire as to what your true purposes for going after me were?”

 

            Surprisingly enough, Kirk reddened slightly and hesitated to answer.

 

            But before Jim had the chance to respond, something brushed across his foot.

 

            Jim's blue eyes widened. “Spock, can you sense anyone—anything—around us?” he asked a bit sharply.

 

            Spock shook his head. “I am afraid not. The water is at such a low temperature that my bodily reaction to it seems to be interfering with my mental capabilities, touch telepathy included.” He peered closely at the water around them, beginning to shiver violently, which he tried to keep at a controlled minimum (he was failing miserably). “Are you attempting to avoid my question?”

 

            “N-no!” Kirk protested. “...Although that is a good side effect—” Suddenly, he felt something again, this time most assuredly something else in the water besides them. His mouth fell open. “Sh-shit, Spock, I just—I just lost my pants!”

 

            Spock tilted his head. “Excuse me?”

 

            Jim took a controlled breath. “Something just took my swim trunks.” He let out a bit of a shaky laugh. “I'm floating on a bright green inner tube in the middle of the ocean on a supposedly uninhabited planet, with a soaked Vulcan that's developing hypothermia, and I'm doing all of that completely in the nude because something on this supposedly uninhabited planet just took my freaking pants!” He began to laugh a bit hysterically as he frantically looked at the water all around him.

 

            “I am going to have to ask you to remain calm and refrain from the hysterics, Capt—Jim,” Spock said calmly, trying to assess the situation he was suddenly finding himself in. “Your pants are truly gone?”

 

            “What, do you want proof?” Jim asked sourly, still a few notes of hysteria in his voice, although he had calmed down. Mostly. Kinda. Sorta. Well, a little. ...Okay, not much. “Cuz I can show ya, if you want. Usually I go for girls, but I’m fine with guys, too. If you really distrust me that much, feel free to cop a feel of my—”

 

            “No, thank you, Jim,” Spock quickly cut him off. “I have no intention of seeing—or...feeling—a sight such as that while on shore leave.”

 

            “Oh.” Jim blinked.

 

            Was it just Spock, or did Jim sound slightly...disappointed? Of course not. Even after this long, Spock was unfortunately, as he disliked to admit, still unused to accurately interpreting human emotions. That had to be it.

 

            “Well, you’re just gonna have to trust me on it.” Jim tried to laugh.

 

            “And I do, Jim,” Spock responded. “I am just...unsure of how you...lost your pants in the first place.”

 

            “Believe me, I am too,” Jim swore. “I felt something on my foot, then nothing for a bit. But then after a little bit I felt...well, it felt like my pants being taken off. Because that’s exactly what it was!”

 

            “By what? Do you have any notion of exactly what...took your pants off?” Spock asked. Despite his best attempts to remain completely cool and collected, even he was feeling distinctly uncomfortable with the situation.

 

            Jim gulped as he remembered the weird, hair-raising feeling of it. “It was kind of like...like....”

 

            Suddenly, Spock felt something on his leg. It brushed across his leg for a moment, then was gone. “Like a claw of some sort?” he asked Jim, mouth suddenly oddly dry despite all of the water surrounding them (although this made sense, he supposed, given that it was salt water, and swallowing salt water, even for Vulcans, tended to dry them out...but he was overthinking this, rambling. he was not supposed to do that. he was Vulcan. Vulcans did not ramble nervously).

 

            “A claw...yeah.” Jim looked at Spock. “How did you know?”

 

            “Because I just felt the exact same thing on my own leg,” Spock answered.

 

            “What, so we’re being stalked by some pervy crab-people or lobster-people or something?” Jim was getting hysterical again.

 

            “There is no need for panic,” Spock tried to reason to his captain.

 

            But suddenly, he felt it again. And judging from Jim’s surprised yelp, he had, too.

 

            This time, though, it stayed.

 

            A hand wrapped around Spock’s ankle, and another one did similarly to Jim.

 

            The hands rested there for a moment, then yanked.

 

            Spock and Jim went underwater, pulled under too quickly to get a breath of air first, and then everything went black.

 

\---

 

            Spock slowly came to and immediately began to take stock of where he was, eyes still closed to feign sleep and fool whoever—or whatever—had them captive.

 

            He was on his side, and he could feel grains of sand beneath the side of his face. He could smell the salt, and the inside of his mouth tasted just as unpleasantly salty. His legs still felt wet. He could feel water lapping at them, so he had to be on a beach somewhere, still half in the water, nonetheless.

 

            Next, Spock listened hard, trying to hear for any conversation, any noise, anything, any indicator of who—again, or what—could possibly have them captive or be anywhere near them.

 

            Strangely enough, he heard some sort of hissing noise coming from around his feet, somewhere in the water.

 

            Spock carefully opened one eye a sliver to see Jim lying next to him, completely conked out and completely in the nude. Spock had to admit, it wasn’t an altogether unpleasant sight, but it was certainly an unexpected one.

 

            Cautiously, the Vulcan shifted his head just the slightest bit to try and see who—or what—could be the source of that odd hissing noise.

 

            Before he could get the chance to see what they were, Jim groaned and shifted. He was starting to wake up.

 

            The hissing stopped almost immediately, and there were a few little splashes, as if something was going underwater.

 

            Sighing, Spock sat up. Now that Jim was making noise and waking up, the gig was up, so he might as well.

 

            “Captain, are you all right?” Spock asked. He leaned over to the barely half-awake blond. The only answer he received was a bleary “Mmmgphnff.”

 

            Jim rolled over onto his stomach, his face getting mashed in wet sand. Where Spock’s question had not been enough to wake Jim, the unwelcome sand to the face was, especially since it had been his pillow and bed on the _Enterprise_ that he’d been expecting. He immediately rolled back over onto his side, coughing and spitting sand and seawater.

 

            While Jim was still waking up, Spock looked around, seeing nothing but beach and a small forest some whiles away from the beach. Ultimately, it was a small island, though; he could see through the trees from their end of the island to the other. There was no other land in sight; only water as far as the eye could see.

 

            Spock couldn’t see what had made the hissing noises anywhere.

 

            After his fit, Jim quieted, rubbing sand and salt out of his eyes. He blinked furiously to clear his eyes. Then, with alert blue eyes that could see once more, he looked around, his eyes first landing on Spock and widening in relief. “Spock, thank god! Are you all right?”

 

            “I am perfectly fine, Captain,” Spock responded as he moved closer to Jim in the sand. Except, of course, for the hypothermia he was most certainly developing. But Spock could be as stubborn as a Terran mule when he wished to, and he was not going to acknowledge his potential injuries until his captain, his Jim, was safe. “I am more concerned about you and your state of wellbeing at the moment. Are you all right, Captain?”

 

            “I...yeah. I’m fine. And for the last time, call me Jim,” said blond groaned as he slowly sat up, wincing. “My head’s pounding, but it’s nothing I can’t live with.”

 

            Spock stood up, suppressing the slight dizziness he felt as he did so. His body was not feeling like it was at its optimum working capacity; it must have been the water and how cold it was. Putting that aside, though, he had to find a way to get them out of wherever they were and get them back to the U.S.S. _Enterprise_.

 

            Spock bent and offered a hand to Jim to help him up, sensing he might need it.

 

            Jim accepted the offered hand and stood. Then he paused. Looked down at a certain part of him that was oh so clearly on display. Looked back up at Spock.

 

            “D’you think I could borrow....” Kirk paused, stopping himself. No. Why would Spock of all people...?

 

            Spock sighed slightly through his nose. Although, being honest, the view was actually pretty good, he should probably lend Jim his pants. Goodness knew if they were beamed up onto the _Enterprise_ with Jim like this, the female members of the crew (and even some of the male ones) would be swooning.

 

            Spock bent down and began to slide off his pants.

 

            Jim flushed, and his eyes widened. “Wh-what are you doing?!” he asked quickly. “Y-you don’t have to!”

 

            “It is most logical that I do, Captain,” Spock responded, handing Jim his pants and standing tall, now in only his black undershirt, blue science officer’s shirt...and his boxers. He forced his body not to shiver at the sudden coldness in his legs.

 

            Jim quickly muttered a quiet thanks before hastily sliding on the pants.

 

            Suddenly, there came a loud hissing noise from the water.

 

            Spock and Jim whirled around to look at the ocean.

 

            There, in the shallows, sat two aliens. They appeared to be female, with dark blue skin that had patches of shiny scales here and there, long blue-green hair, and green lips. Their eyes were dark, almost black. One of them had a dark scaled tail flicking behind her, barely visible but there nonetheless (so were they some sort of mer-people, like from the human myths? Spock filed that question away to ask later...provided they seemed willing to cooperate). They each had sizeable chests that were in very plain view, and they both had their mouths bared, revealing large, sharp, pointed teeth.

 

            Spock and Jim glanced at each other. Jim’s eyes were wide, for various reasons, Spock assumed.

 

            Then, to their surprise, the aliens began to speak in halting, hissing English.

 

            “Whhhyyy...did you do thattt?” one of the aliens asked, obviously not pleased. “Tttake..it off.”

 

            Kirk stared at them blankly. Then he looked down at himself. “What, my—well, Spock’s—pants? No, thanks.”

 

            “You mussst!” the other one hissed. “It isss part of the ritual.”

 

            “Ritual?” Spock asked sharply. “What is this ritual? What is the purpose of it, and why do you require my captain?’

 

            “Yyyour captain?” The second alien tilted her head. “But he isss sssupposssed to be oursss. We nnneed him for the mating ritual.”

 

            “Uh, what?” Jim squeaked. His eyes were wide, and he suddenly appeared to be very much regretting this shore leave.

 

            Spock was regretting it as well. All of the attention the creatures were giving his captain was not very pleasing to him.

 

            “Yesss, yesss.” The first alien nodded. “Yyyou will hhhave our children.”

 

            Jim turned green. “Uh, what?” he parroted again, not unlike a broken record. “Isn’t it, like...supposed to be the other way?”

 

            The first alien frowned. “Nnno. Men isss the onesss who carry the child. For usss.”

 

            The other alien grinned, revealing sharp teeth. “Annnd once the children are born and the mating isss over, we eatsss the men.”

 

            Jim stared.

 

            Then he screamed like a little girl and ran.

 

            Spock sighed and followed. Sooner or later, Jim would realize the idiocy in his actions. There was absolutely nowhere to run on the island, if one could even call it that.

 

            The alien creatures hissed their obvious irritation that Jim had gone out of their reach. It appeared that they were unable to go onto land, given their fish-like lower halves.

 

            Spock turned to consult with Jim on the best way to get out of their situation, only to find Jim in the midst of a freak-out too big to be ignored.

 

            “I’m too young to die. I’m too young to die,” Jim was chanting quietly to himself, holding his head in his hands. His eyes were very wide and very panicked—and a very nice shade of blue, as Spock suddenly found himself realizing.

 

            Jim looked up at Spock. “This is karma, isn’t it?” he despaired. “I swear, I’ll never have a one-night stand again! Hell, I’ll—I’ll never even fucking have sex again! I’ll go celibate! I’ll quit captaining a ship and become a nun! I just—don’t make me—no!” He raised his hand and pointed wildly at the two irritated alien life forms. “No!”

 

            Spock reached out his own hand, gently resting it on Jim’s outstretched arm. “Jim, you will not have to do anything you do not want to in such a manner. I will not allow it. We will sooner find a way out of this situation than require any drastic measures as such to occur. There is no need for you to panic.”

 

            Perhaps it was Spock’s words, his touch, his presence...but something about it all made Jim start to calm down. “Panic?” he blustered weakly. “I wasn’t panicking.”

 

            Spock knew for a fact that the wide eyes, dilated pupils, shorter breaths, and elevated heart rate of his captain all indicated that yes, Jim was indeed panicking, but he also realized and understood his captain’s emotional need to pretend that he was not in an attempted display of bravado. Therefore, Spock said nothing in response to Jim’s statement, even though part of him itched to correct the captain.

 

            “Do you have any propositions?” Spock asked Jim instead.

 

            Jim gaped at him. “I—what?”

 

            “Do you have any propositions on how we escape from this situation?” Spock clarified, unsure of what the captain was confused on. It seemed rather obvious.

 

            Jim flushed. “Uh, yeah. Right. Of course.” He paused in thought. “To be honest, no.” He looked around them in vain. “There’s obviously nobody for miles, except for us...and, well, them.” He gestured to the two irritated marine life forms that were now angrily swimming circles around the small island, not unlike sharks would circle prey. He gulped and tried not to think of that analogy.

 

            Spock looked at the horizon as well. “Indeed. It appears that we are quite far from the rest of the crew. It is unlikely that we will be able to find any means to contact them.”

 

            Kirk and Spock both surveyed the “island” that they were currently stuck on.

 

            It was tiny, with few resources on it. It was almost entirely made up of sand. There was a small grove of trees near the center of the island, which the two were now huddled in, just barely out of reach of the water-bound aliens. Other than that, though, there was nothing. No water. No food. No shelter. No weapons. Nothing.

 

            “Can we maybe think of ways to get rid of the...mermaids or whatever the hell they are?” Jim suggested weakly. “If we do that first, then maybe it’ll be a little less stressful while we try to think of ways to get into contact with the ship.”

 

            Spock inclined his head in agreement. “That seems logical.” He paused in thought. “...I am loath to admit, however, that I am unsure as to how we could lead them away from us.”

 

            Jim looked at the few palm trees that they were hiding in. “...We could uproot one of these trees and beat them away from here.” He forced a laugh as he reached out and smacked one of the trees with one hand.

 

            The tree shook as Kirk hit it, causing something to fall from its branches and thud softly on the sandy ground.

 

            Jim and Spock looked down at it. Whatever it was had split open and was leaking some sort of sticky juice.

 

            “It appears to be some sort of fruit,” Spock said to Jim.

 

            “No dip,” Jim replied. He reached down to touch it.

 

            Spock immediately grabbed Jim’s hand away from the fruit. “Jim, you must not touch it. Your allergies. We are not aware of what it is or what it might do to you.”

 

            “Um, yeah. Okay. Makes sense.” Jim nodded somewhat reluctantly.

 

            There was a slightly uncomfortable pause before Jim spoke again, slightly flushed. “Uh, Spock....”

 

            Spock realized that he had yet to let go of his captain’s hand. Quickly, as if he had been burned, he let go of Jim’s hand. Then, to have something to do, he bent down to pick up the fruit. “As I have no known allergies, I will examine this fruit-like object to determine whether it might be safe to ingest.”  


            As Spock closed his fingers around the fruit, his hand got some of the sticky juices of the cracked fruit on his hand.

 

            This time, when he jerked his hand away, it was because his hand had actually been burned.

 

            “Spock!” Jim looked at his friend and first officer, alarmed. “Are you okay?”

 

            Spock blinked, clearing spots out of his vision as he tried to block away the pain of the burn on his sensitive hand. “I believe so. However, the fruit’s juice appears to be highly acidic. I have burned my hand on it.”

 

            “Well, shit, that’s not good,” Jim cursed. “We have no clue what that could do to you.”

 

            “You are informing me,” Spock said in as close to a mutter as he would ever get, feeling as close to irritated as he had been in a while.

 

            After all, here he was, on a pathetic excuse of an island, in the middle of nowhere, freezing cold and most certainly developing hypothermia, dressed in his shirt and only boxers, with nobody in sight except for Jim, who was wearing nothing but Spock’s own pants, and some alien females intent on taking what wasn’t theirs and using Jim to reproduce. And now he had burned himself on an unknown acidic substance inside an unknown fruit, with no idea what it could do to him.

 

            “Do you think the fruit could have the same affect on the aliens?” Kirk asked suddenly. “Maybe if we throw these at them, they’ll get burned and leave.”

 

            Spock nodded. “An excellent suggestion.” He looked around. “However, we have nothing with which to throw the fruit at them.”

 

            Jim looked around. Then his eyes landed on Spock. He pursed his lips. “Spock, you’re probably not going to like this idea, but we can try using your overshirt as a sort of sling to throw it at them.”

 

            Spock glanced down at his blue science shirt. He really was quite cold, and only just concealing his shivering from the captain, so he didn’t really want to depart with his shirt...but the situation required it. Jim required it.

 

            Anything to help Jim.

 

            And that wasn’t anything new. Spock constantly put himself in harm’s way for the human in front of him, couldn’t dream of doing anything less. What was one ruined shirt? He already most certainly had hypothermia; one shirt was not going to remedy that.

 

            Spock fluidly stripped off his overshirt, leaving the thin black regulation shirt on.

 

            As he looked back up at Jim, Spock caught the other gaping at him. Jim snapped out of it quickly enough, though, looking away and flushing.

 

            Spock ignored that for the time being and quickly fashioned his shirt in such a manner that it would work as a sort of sling. Then he knelt down to gather the fruit in it. Standing back up, Spock located the aliens and wound back before quickly, crisply throwing the squished fruit in their direction.

 

            A loud shriek told them that the fruit had hit its mark, but if anything, the burning didn’t drive the aliens off—it only angered them even more, and they started swimming in a manner that appeared to be the equivalent to pacing, only in water.

 

            “Well, that failed miserably.” Jim flopped to the ground, sighing heavily. “Great.”

 

            Spock followed his captain, sitting down as well, only in a more graceful manner. “Then we shall figure out another way to drive them away.”

 

            “But what?” Jim groaned hopelessly. “What do we do?”

 

            “We shall do what we always do,” Spock said firmly.

 

            Jim looked at Spock.

 

            “We will find a way.”

 

            Jim continued to stare at Spock, almost seeming a little awed. Then he blinked those blue eyes, laughed slightly, and smiled. “Of course we will, Spock. Of course we will.”

 

            Then suddenly he glanced down at Spock’s red, blistering hand and grabbed Spock’s blue shirt out of his hands, firmly insisting on bandaging up Spock’s hand as best as he could, despite the Vulcan’s protests.

 

            And the two of them sat there, their usual dynamic restored, as they did what they did best—worked together to try and solve the problem.

 

\---

 

            “God, it has to have been hours,” Jim groaned, annoyed. He paced around the small grove of trees, not daring to go further. He had tried once before, but it had not been long-lived, and had quickly returned to the safety of the trees with the alien females snapping at his heels.

 

            “According to my internal clock, it has been three-point-seven hours since we awakened on this island,” Spock offered unhelpfully from his position on the ground. He was beginning to feel rather...odd...and, quite frankly, was not entirely sure that he could trust his legs enough to stand anymore. He was even more cold than before and had been shivering for the past forty-nine-point-two minutes. Of course, whatever the poison or acidic juice was that had burned him was not helping at all, and he was feeling rather light-headed. All of this he of course neglected to mention to Jim.

 

            “Great,” Jim sighed. And we still have nothing. No ideas. No clue how to get those damn things away from us, and no clue how to contact the _Enterprise_.” Jim ran a hand through his messy hair, which by now had dried and, thoroughly caked with the remnants of sand and salt, was sticking straight up. Which Spock of course did not find endearing at all.

 

            A wave of chills suddenly wracked through Spock’s body, and he unconsciously drew his arms up around himself to try and conserve warmth.

 

            The sudden motion caught Jim’s eye. He slowly stopped pacing, looking down at his Vulcan companion.

 

            “Spock, are you okay?” he asked, concerned for his friend.

 

            “Yes, I am—” Spock paused as a particularly violent shudder ran through him. “—fine, Jim.”

 

            “Bullshit.” Jim walked over to him and crouched down. “Spock, are you cold?” He paused, looking at Spock’s pallor, which was still green, as usual, but now had a slightly bluish tint to it as well. “Shit, Spock, are you developing hypothermia?”

 

            “I-it is highly p-possible,” Spock stammered, not in the least pleased with his stammering and his teeth chattering, which had caused it all in the first place.

 

            “Why didn’t you tell me?” Jim sat down next to Spock. “Frick. We can’t afford you getting sick. We don’t know when the _Enterprise_ is going to get to us.” He leaned into Spock and started to put his arms around him.

 

            Spock jumped slightly and scooted away. “Jim, what are you—”

 

            “I’m helping you stay warm, dammit,” came the irritated reply. Jim looked pointedly at him. “Now get back here so I can hug you to conserve body heat!”

 

            Spock paused for a moment, his cheeks tinged green in slight embarrassment. But the thought of warmth overruled any embarrassment he had, and soon enough he was crawling back to Jim. Jim, who looked oh so inviting and warm and huggable and....

 

            It was the hypothermia speaking. It was the poison speaking. It was most certainly not Spock speaking.

 

            All the same, though, Jim’s embrace was quite warm, as Spock soon found out, with the human’s arms wound tightly, snugly around him.

 

            And it was quite maddening to the aliens, who had been angrily circling them for hours now.

 

            “Jim,” Spock spoke up quietly.

 

            “Mm...yes, Spock?” Jim leaned away just enough to look at the dark-haired man.

 

            “It appears that my close proximity to you has angered the alien life forms,” Spock said. His brain felt slightly sluggish, and he felt a little dizzy, but he also felt certain that after hours, he was finally onto something.

 

            Kirk glanced over at the two mermaids. “Yeah...it looks like it.” He laughed half-heartedly. “Well, they can just suck it up and deal with it.” He paused.

 

            Spock basked in the warmth of Jim’s close body for one more blissful moment before Jim started, suddenly excited.

 

            “Wait a minute! I get it! I have an idea!” Jim crowed.

 

            Spock turned almost lazily to look at his captain. “Do tell, Jim.”

 

            Jim looked at him, eyes bright with hope. “They want to reproduce with me, right?”

 

            Spock blinked. Was that not obvious?

 

            “So maybe if we make it obvious to them that I’m off the market?” Jim looked expectantly at Spock.

 

            Spock stared blankly back at him.

 

            “If we make it obvious I’m not available to be reproduced with?” Jim tried again. “If we make it obvious that I am very taken and very not interested in them or their breeding or, hell, even their gender?”

 

            Spock, his brain damp and fogged by the chills he was feeling, still quite obviously completely lacked understanding of what Jim was trying to say.

 

            “Dammit.” Jim sighed. Guess he had to lay it out, clear as day. Well, this was one way to waste the months of discretion he had tried to use to mask his regards for Spock. But it had to be done.

 

            “Spock, kiss me.”

 

            Spock blinked, certain he had misheard Jim. “Pardon?”

 

            “You heard me.”

 

            “But Jim—why?” Spock was perhaps as close to flabbergasted as he had been in his entire life.

            “If we can find a way to prove to them that I’m taken by someone else—that someone being you, since you’re the only other person here,” Jim laid out painstakingly, “then maybe they’ll get bored and go elsewhere to find another mate.”

 

            Spock paused. In a way, it did make logical sense. But at the same time....

 

            “Jim, I cannot possibly—” Spock began, but Jim cut him off (which was honestly a good thing, because Spock hadn’t the faintest idea of what he had been planning to say. his mind had gone sufficiently blank in shock).

 

            “Look, I know you’re not a big touchy-feely kind of guy, and I don’t want to force anything like that on you, but this is the best idea we’ve had in the three-plus hours we’ve been here. If you can think of some other genius plan, that’s great. But in the meantime—we should at least give this a try.” Jim grinned tightly. “After all, might as well enjoy ourselves while we’re alone together on a deserted island.”

 

            “I must endeavor to point out the paradox in your previous statement—” Spock began, only to be cut off again by Jim. This time, Spock wasn’t cut off by Jim’s words, though.

 

            Rather, Spock was cut off by Jim’s lips.

 

            They remained on his for a moment, then Jim was nervously leaning not too far away, but just far enough to warily judge Spock’s reaction.

 

            Spock stared at his captain, his friend, ~~his love,~~ stunned.

 

            Jim stared right back, looking almost...shy. “Is...was that okay?”

 

            “It is...acceptable, given that the situation requires it,” Spock managed, his throat somehow feeling even more dry than it had before. The salt water. The lack of drinking water. That was what it was. Not nerves. Spock was certainly not nervous.

 

            The two of them looked at each other for a moment more, then looked over at the two female aliens.

 

            The aliens were spitting mad.

 

            “Dddo not touch him!” one of them hissed angrily. “Y...you of the pointy earsss, he isss not yoursss!”

 

            “He isss oursss,” the other spat violently.

 

            “Uh, sorry, ladies,” Jim said, not sounding sorry in the least. “But I am very much his, and he is very much mine! So you can keep your webbed hands off!”

 

            Spock nodded, agreeing soundly with Jim’s words. Then, feeling particularly daring (perhaps because of how woozy and out-of-control he felt), he leaned forward to initiate their next moment of contact.

 

            Jim’s lips were soft. For a moment, they were surprised, frozen. But then they melted and molded against Spock’s, and best of all, they were warm. Full of warmth, just like Jim himself.

 

            And maybe it was the hypothermia, maybe it was the acid burn, or maybe it was just Spock himself. Maybe this was something Spock would not have minded in the first place, without all of the cold and the burn and the crazy aliens.

 

            Whatever it is, Spock allowed himself to get lost in it, shutting his eyes tightly, basking in the warmth of having Jim’s full attention focused on him, laser-sharp.

 

            Spock did not know how long they kissed. All he knew was that his internal clock had come to a shuddering halt. His shivering had stopped. The throbbing pain of the burn on his hand had faded. All he could feel is Jim, so close to him, so close.

 

            This was something Spock never dreamed would actually happen, but it was altogether not a horrible outcome. Not an objectionable outcome.

 

            Perhaps even a good outcome. An outcome desired by both parties.

 

            And then Spock remembered that it was all an act. A ruse. A pretense. All to convince two alien females that Jim was not theirs for mating with.

 

            Then the jealous train of thought ran through his head—Jim was not theirs. He was Spock’s. Spock’s captain. Spock’s friend. Spock’s. Spock’s. Spock’s. Spock’s.

 

            And Spock was Jim’s.

 

            So the fervor with which Spock kissed Jim was not entirely an act. In fact, it wasn’t at all an act.

 

            But Jim didn’t need to know that. Better if he didn’t, for he most certainly would never return Spock’s feelings.

 

            So Spock did something he never dreamed he would do—he made the most of kissing Jim, knowing it would not happen again.

 

            And he felt something he never dreamed he would feel—remorse, hurt at the thought that kissing Jim would not happen again.

 

            Eventually, though, the two parted, out of breath from the surprisingly passionate ploy to get the aliens to leave.

 

            Jim looked out at the ocean immediately surrounding their island. “...I don’t see them.” He turned to Spock, eyes bright, face tinted red, lips slightly swollen. “Spock, I think they left! I think it actually worked!”

 

            Spock glanced around the island himself. He didn’t see the female marine life anywhere, not even farther out on the horizon. “Indeed, Jim. Our ruse appears to have worked.”

 

            “Damn, but we’re good,” Jim muttered, grinning triumphantly. “I didn’t think that would actually work. Cool!”

 

            Spock cocked his head slightly in confusion, turning to look at his captain. “If you did not believe that the attempt would work, then why would you carry out the attempt anyway?” he asked, honestly curious. He felt as if he was missing something important here, but his brain was too fuzzy to think of just what he was missing right now.

 

            To Spock’s surprise, Jim actually reddened at Spock’s question. He flailed around for an answer. “Well, I...you know. It was worth a shot?” he tried. “I mean, we had no other ideas. And...um...well....” Jim scratched at the back of his neck awkwardly, looking very decidedly away from Spock.

 

            Waiting for an answer, Spock remained silent, simply looking at Jim.

 

            Finally, caving under Spock’s firm, unwavering gaze, Jim sighed. “Look. I, uh...just...promise you won’t murder me and toss me into the ocean for the fishes, okay?”

 

            Spock frowned slightly. “Of course. Why would I ever do that?”

 

            Jim laughed weakly. “Never mind. I just....” He looked Spock in the eyes, serious blue versus confused brown.

 

            “Well, um, you are...very good-looking. You know that, right?”

 

            Spock blinked. “Lieutenant Uhura assured me similarly during our previous relationship, yes.” He was unsure of where Jim was going with this. It was making him slightly uncomfortable.

 

            Jim’s confidence petered out. “Yeah. Makes sense.” He paused and cleared his throat, stalling for time. “So, you know how Uhura...felt towards you when the two of you dated?”

 

            “Yes.” Spock nodded. “Contrary to what other crew members may believe, I am not completely ignorant of romantic goings-on.”

 

            “I don’t doubt that.” Jim laughed slightly. “I mean, after what we just...did, I sure as hell don’t doubt that.” He paused. “It’s just that...lately, I’ve kind of been feeling towards you how Uhura felt when you were dating.” He looked down at the ground, tracing circles absent-mindedly into the sand, clearly uncomfortable at admitting such a thing.

 

            The puzzle pieces slowly, finally clicked into place in Spock’s head. Now many of the comments that Jim had been offhandedly making more recently made a great deal of sense.

 

            “You feel a romantic inclination towards me?” Spock clarified aloud, just to make sure that he was making the correct deduction.

 

            Jim laughed weakly, trying to maintain some sort of level of confidence and humility. “Yes, I am in love with you, if that’s what you’re asking.”

 

            His brown eyes warm with amusement and fondness, Spock looked at Jim. “In that case, I must admit to feeling similarly towards you, Jim.” It came out a lot more easily than Spock had expected.

 

            Jim’s eyes lit up once more. “Seriously?” He grinned cheekily. “Is that your way of saying you’re in love with me, too?”

 

            Spock’s eyes twinkled. “Indeed.”

 

            Jim smiled, feeling more relieved than he had felt in a long time. “Well, then. What do you say we write a quick S.O.S. in the sand for everybody to see if they send out shuttles looking for us, and then we continue what we were doing beforehand?” He wriggled his eyebrows mischievously.

 

            “I am not averse to such an idea. In fact, I must admit that such an idea quite intrigues me,” Spock admitted. Spock stood to help Jim trace out a hastily-drawn S.O.S. in the sand.

 

            Immediately after, the two settled once more on the ground under the grove of palm trees, resuming the activity they had been doing before to attempt and drive away the mermaids. Only, this time, they were doing said activity purely for enjoyment purposes. And perhaps they were getting a little more passionate and handsy about it, but no one else was there to witness it, so no one was any the wiser.

 

            Until, of course, the _Enterprise_ finally picked up on their life forms while scanning the planet for signs of them, and Scotty beamed them back onboard.

 

            But, of course, the two of them were much too involved in their make-out session to even notice themselves being beamed back onboard or notice themselves being on the transporter pad and not the sandy island.

 

            McCoy had been waiting anxiously beside Scotty, hoping that the captain and first officer weren’t missing too many limbs. The unfortunate doctor was unable to tell, at first, if any limbs had indeed been lost between the two of them, since their limbs were so tangled together that it was almost impossible to tell whose arm or leg was whose.

 

            “Dammit, Jim!” McCoy sighed, irritated, finally startling the two away from each other. “And...I never thought I would say this, but dammit, Spock.”

 

            “Sorry, Bones! Didn’t know you were there.” Jim looked cheerfully at his friend, not at all sorry.

 

            Spock at least had the decency to look slightly embarrassed, his face slightly green.

 

            McCoy looked the two of them up and down to make sure they were fine, sighing resignedly. He gaped down at Spock’s clothing...or rather, lack thereof. “Spock, I expected as much from Jim—” here Jim interjected with a half-hearted little “hey!” even though he knew McCoy was completely right— “—but what happened to your pants?”

 

            Spock looked calmly at the doctor, appearing quite put-together despite being only in boxers and an undershirt. “Jim lost his pants, so I provided mine to him in their stead.”

 

            McCoy sighed again. He would ignore the obvious for now, just long enough to ascertain that neither of them were in any sort of mortal danger. After that, though, of course, all bets were off.

 

            McCoy quickly scanned Jim and then Spock with his tricorder as the two of them stood and dusted themselves off. “Next time you want to seduce your first officer, Jim, I would advise that you just get it over with onboard, instead of getting the two of you swept away in some crazy rip current and stuck on some small island. Jesus! You had us actually worried that something had happened to you!” He frowned at Spock’s readings. “And you got your Vulcan boyfriend hypothermia. And some sort of burn on his hand.”

 

            “And we haven’t even told you about the killer mermaids who wanted to have sex with me!” Jim chirped, seemingly unaffected by the doctor’s lecturing. A suggestive tone entered his voice. “Spock and I found a way to...convince them I wasn’t interested, though.”

 

            “What?” McCoy paused and shook his head, flabbergasted. “No. No, I do not want to know.” He started to head to the door. “Come on. Let’s get your Vulcan pet to MedBay to get him taken care of.”

 

            Jim and Spock followed Bones out of the transporter room. On the way out, Jim reached out and snagged Spock’s uninjured hand with one of his own, running two of his fingers along Spock’s.

 

            McCoy barely glanced back at the two of them before sighing, annoyed, and turning back to walk at a faster pace, as if he could possibly outrun the two idiots behind him. “Jesus! I know Vulcan biology—I know what you’re doing. Just get a goddamn room already.”

 

            Although Spock was not much of a sexual creature (except for every seven years, of course), even he understood that one, quickly jerking his hand away from Jim’s.

 

            “It’s fine.” Jim grinned devilishly at Spock, that cheeky, daring grin that Spock had once found almost irritating, yet had come to find most endearing. He leaned in closer to Spock. “We’ll have plenty of time for stuff like that later.”

 

            McCoy had never wanted to unhear something so badly in his life. “Dammit, I heard that!”

 

\---

 

            “Jim?” Spock said later as he and Jim lay snuggled on a biobed behind a privacy screen in MedBay.

 

            “Yes?” came Jim’s drowsy reply.

 

            “Instead of going planetside for our next shore leave and risking something like this again, may we simply relax in one of our rooms in a similar manner to what we are doing now?”

 

            “Is that your way of asking if we can skip the shitfest and just cuddle next time?” Jim replied mirthfully.

 

            “Yes, Jim, I believe it is.”

 

            Jim’s rumbled laugh vibrated through Spock’s chest, which the blond was currently snuggled up against. Spock absent-mindedly stroked at Jim’s messy dirty blond hair, awaiting his answer.

 

            “Then in that case, hell yeah.”

**Author's Note:**

> I think we have ascertained that if I were the screenwriter for a Star Trek TV show or movie, it would be a total crack comedy. (And also that it would be a four hour movie or a two hour TV episode or whatever bc this was at least 7,000 words longer than I planned for it to be.)
> 
> Hopefully this doesn’t seem disjointed in any places. I wrote it over a longer period of time, and for a good month or so in between I didn’t even glance at this thing, much less write it. I’m sure it’s fine, though. Totally unbetaed, of course, so I don’t have a second opinion on that, but hey, that’s just how I roll. :p If there are any mistakes, though, please tell me!!
> 
> I haven’t really written all that much lately, I know, especially not Star Trek stuff. I’ve been focusing more on writing original works and, as a high school senior, I’ve had a lot of stuff on my plate: school, college applications, shows (I’m a total theatre nerd), concerts (I’m a total choir nerd), work, and, of course, my own writing. So I’ve kind of continued what I’ve been doing for a long time, only more sped-up now—I’m stopping writing fanfiction. I don’t feel a need to write it as much anymore.
> 
> I still definitely hold a special place in my heart for fanfiction—writing fanfiction has shaped me. It was a fairly large part of my life when I was younger, and it allowed me to expand and improve my writing abilities. And, in that sense, I can respect fanfiction as much as I make fun of it.
> 
> I just wanted to let you guys know why I’ve kinda stopped...existing on AO3 and Wattpad and everything. Heh. I’m trying to finish a lot of the stuff I’ve already begun and maybe flesh out a couple of the ideas I still really love, despite having fallen out of love with fanfiction itself. So you can expect a little more from me. I’ll probably try and “get my affairs in order” by the end of the summer, before I go off to college, so I do have a little time left. In that time left, if you guys have any requests or anything, feel free to tell me, and I’ll see what I can do. After that, though.... :/
> 
> Let me just say, though, I love you guys! You’ve been surprisingly receptive to everything that I’ve written, even though I know it’s not the best, and I really appreciate it. Every comment and kudo I have gotten makes me smile. You are all amazing, beautiful people, and I wish you luck in anything and everything you do. This isn’t goodbye just yet, but I just want to let you all know how much you are valued and loved. <3
> 
> Sorry for the long author’s note...really hope you enjoyed the story though!!


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